


What doesn't kill you may kill some neurons so its a lose-lose

by SadGladMad



Series: What doesn't kill you may kill neurons so it's a lose-lose [1]
Category: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer - Fandom
Genre: Charmie, Fluff and Humor, M/M, RPF, University-AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:26:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadGladMad/pseuds/SadGladMad
Summary: The return of the hammer...to crush his pathetic little heart...Un-beta. Mistakes are my own.





	What doesn't kill you may kill some neurons so its a lose-lose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Charmies who love conspiracy theories and hate fakeness but don't want to be trolling folks](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Charmies+who+love+conspiracy+theories+and+hate+fakeness+but+don%27t+want+to+be+trolling+folks).



“You’re what now?”  
The ground was spinning and Timmy slumped against the tree trunk, the nausea rising. This was not how he imagined their reunion going..  
His childhood crush -Armie of the sapphire eyes, golden skin and blinding smile… looming over him while he tried not to puke his guts out on Armie’s shoes.

“You’re a freshman? God Timmy – you should not be this plastered little buddy.”

“I’m not your little buddy!” he snapped back sounding a whole lot less angry and a whole lot cuter than he meant. “I’m fucking 5 foot 10 ya douchebag...not little!”  
Smooth, smooth Timmy. Were Armie’s friends sniggering at him? And where did Julian and Nico go? Armie still towered over him…god he was hotter now than when he was a teenage dream.  
“Ooh, don’t make him mad Armie, he might fight you…he’s such a big fella..” Cue mockery and humiliation again.

Armie ignored their jibes and Timmy’s crankiness and picked him up off the ground like a toddler having a tantrum. “C’mon sweet T, lets get you home. You’re ok little buddy.” 

Timmy was way too gone to protest. He clung to his side like he used to when he was 11 and Armie was his 18year old soccer coach. Armie was his 1st crush and Armie knew it. Everybody fucking knew it. He worshipped Armie and cried when he moved away for college. He gave Timmy his baseball hat with a capital A on it and Timmy slept with it for 2 nights until Pauline got wind of it. Then he hid it in the treehouse with his treasures. Pauline was too grown up to climb trees by then.

Last Timmy had heard he had moved to Dallas. What was he doing in upstate NY? This night was turning into a shit show. First the frat party he didn’t want to go to, then his so called friends had just pissed off and left him there alone and now the return of the Hammer. To crush his pathetic heart.

Timmy woke in a strange room, daylight streaming in through the curtains. Where the hell was he? His mouth and his eyes…god he was never doing this again …  
He got out of bed and stumbled out into a kitchenette. Nope…no idea..  
The front door rattled and last night came rushing back. Armie came in carrying a box of doughnuts , sweaty, golden, and glowing from his morning run… and this was not good.

He was fucking beaming . God Timmy hated what he did to his insides. When did he turn into an 11 year boy again?  
“Timmy!” He dropped the box on the counter and strode over wrapping Timmy in a bone crushing hug. He was too dazed and hungover to reciprocate. Armie didn’t seem to notice, just ruffled his hair and laughed “it’s so good to see you buddy!”

Timmy could barely look at him. He looked away, this was so fucking embarrassing. “Yeah,” he mumbled, offering him a quick pat on the back. 

“C’mon man, I’ll make coffee. Sit. Eat.”  
He slumped on the kitchen stool at the counter planning an exit strategy .“I need to go man. My mouth feels disgusting. Not a coffee drinker.”  
“Oh shit yeah,” Armie nodded. “Lemme just…” when he came back he was holding one of those fancy airline bags you get in 1st class. “Have a shower. Toothbrush in there. Towel on the rack, freshen up. I’ll make tea Sweet T.” And now he had no excuses…

When Timmy came out , Armie was scrolling through his phone leaning on the counter. He beamed yet again.  
Uugh..it’s too fucking early to blind me with your smile you ass. Timmy scowled at him as Armie poured tea, served him a fresh warm cinnamon doughnut. Timmy looked at the food, conscious Armie was watching him.  
“Feeling better?” he winked after the 2nd doughnut disappeared.  
Timmy pursed his lips in a silent grimace and nodded. “Yeah thanks man. I’ll get out of your hair. Sorry about that.” Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he be a normal functioning adult?

Armie was silent. His face fell. “No problem man. We should catch up though.”  
Timmy didn’t say anything just a quick nod and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll drive you back.”

“Fuck! Aren’t we on campus?”

“Nope, I’m the coach of the girls soccer team. I’m way too old to be living in a dorm on campus.”

“So why were you there last night?” The sugar in his blood was helping him string sentences together now.

Armie sniggered. “You weren’t on campus either Timmy. You were completely out of it. I was at the Union pub with some of the other coaches and trainers. We saw some shitfaced kid sitting his ass down against a tree alone. Nick asked you where you lived and you recited your home address. Man I couldn’t believe it was little Timmy Chalamet all grown up and going to frat parties!”

Oh god. This was terrible. Horrendous. Humiliating. He buried his face in his hands.  
When he finally slapped his hands down on the counter again, Armie was gazing at him keenly. “Are you ok little buddy?” He felt a gentle prod on his shoulder.

“No I am not fucking ok! My friends dragged me to this shitty party, left me there blind drunk, you…you sweep in like my ….my Dad…I feel really terrible and ashamed you saw me like that and I just want to go back to bed!” 

Armie raised his perfect blonde eyebrow and scrutinised Timmy as if he was deliberating on a suitable penalty. Sighing deeply, he rubbed his forehead with his hand, wiped his face and then stood up. He placed his hands on Timmy’s shoulders and turned him around. Forcefully.  
“Back to bed,” he ordered marching him back to the bedroom. Timmy protested but Armie just shoved a little harder. He pushed him on to the queen sized bed, pulled a pair of clean sweat pants out of a laundry basket and threw them at his head. He strode over to the curtains and pulled them so another blind came down as well.

“Go to sleep. And wake up on the fucking right side of the bed next time Chalamet,” he growled.

**Author's Note:**

> seattlepetal-blog on tumblr.  
> I love a conspiracy theory. I hate ridiculing people's appearance or their mental ill health.


End file.
